


To be a Graves

by flightinflame



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Hurt Original Percival Graves, M/M, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings, Overprotective Theseus Scamander, Sickfic, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 18:32:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12965772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: Being a Graves came with certain expectations. Percival knew that. Theseus though? Theseus had his own ideas.





	To be a Graves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Funkspiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Funkspiel/gifts).



To be a Graves

Percival had known since he was a child that being a Graves came with certain meanings. A Graves was never to show weakness, never to expect kindness or demand it from others. A Graves wasn't to feel. They were there to fight and to die for MACUSA's defence, to shield the magical community from those who meant them harm. They existed to fight. They were a sacrifice, a line in the sand which those who meant harm to MACUSA would not be able to cross. Their role was to be strong.

A Graves was to hold their head high, and act with strength even when they felt weakened. As a child, Percival had broken his arm in a duel, and carried on fighting until he won, because that was what he had been raised to do. The thought of surrendering because he was in pain was unthinkable. His teacher had yelled at him when she had found out about his injury, but the memory was precious to Percival. It was one of the few times that his father had said that he had done well. Later, he had learned that he could fight for what he believed, sheltering Seraphina and standing by her side as insults and curses rained down upon them both.

In the war, he fought on as his mind screamed, as every noise had him wanting to hide or to sleep until he no longer had to live. Such weakness wasn't for him. It was for others, for those who were more delicate than he, for those who were not made to be weapons. He accepted his place, and his only fight against it was that he never had a child, that he was determined to be the last of his line. The Graves life, and the hardships and pain it involved, would die with him.

During the war, there had been those from other countries, who had smiled and seen him as just another auror. Those who hadn't understood the real impact of the Graves name, and even among their number, one who had been fool enough to love him. Theseus Scamander had been the highlight of Percival's life, a brief moment of normality in an existence which had always been meant to be anything but. He moved on, after the war. Forgot the brief times he had allowed himself to be human, because that was gone now. He had a name to live up to.

In the end, he had failed the name. He had disgraced his identity, and would have been disowned by his family if any of them still lived. But they were dead now, and spared the shame he caused. He had been defeated at a moment of weakness. He had allowed his emotions to get to him - his loneliness, his sorrow at having to cut short the career of one of his aurors, his anger at the society which said they were never to interfere in the lives of No-Majs, it all combined to wash over him and drown him. He'd allowed himself a few gulps of the whisky his father had left him, trying to numb himself, to remove the pain that he was never meant to feel in the first place. It had been strong, and the room had been spinning. 

Then someone had apparated into his living room. He had fought them, tried his best despite his intoxication, driven them back, but he had been defeated, and now he was a prisoner. He was trapped within his own house, tormented and tortured by a monster that wore his face to destroy everything he had ever achieved, and he knew that he was a disgrace.

There were cuts across much of his body, wounds from tortures that had been inflicted upon him, but he refused to surrender any more information. He had already given up too much when he allowed his face to be taken. He would not fail MACUSA any more. No matter what happened to him, he was still a Graves, and if he could no longer live as one of them, he was ready to die as one of their number, to accept his role was done. He tried to fight, every time he was given the chance, but he was weakening day by day.

When death came, it would be because he deserved it. Because he had failed MACUSA and been overtaken by Grindelwald. Because he no longer possessed the strength to fight, and the fight was all that he was good for. He closed his eyes as he heard a noise. He would come back soon, and the best that Percival could hope for was that the end would be quick.

The door to the bedroom opened, and a very recognisable and very English voice greeted him.  
"You look like you have been through hell."  
Percival didn't bother to respond. Either he was hallucinating again, or Grindelwald had found a new way to torment him. He thought of the locket Theseus had given him after the war, with a photograph and a lock of Theseus's hair. There were days when he allowed himself to open it, to look at the face of the man he had fought alongside and let himself daydream. And for that reason, he had left a weakness. Theseus's hair could be used in a polyjuice potion, and someone could fake the image of the British Auror.

"Percival?" the voice asked softly, walking forwards to crouch in front of him. There was a humanity in that at that moment a tenderness that Grindelwald had never shown. The man was a hallucination then. That was alright. He would appreciate the company of his hallucination.  
"Hello,." he said softly, looking up from the floor to gaze into Theseus's eyes. Those eyes were perfect - his mind recalled their colour even now. The rest of the image had its flaws but the eyes were right. The scar on Theseus's nose was new, and the one on his ear.

"Percival, you with me?" the voice asked, and he reached out, resting his hand on Percival's shoulder. Percival shivered a little, leaning into the touch, and able to notice how much it smelled like Theseus. After so long, he was surprised he could remember how Theseus smelled, how it felt to hold him in his arms. The world around him was growing dark, and he stared up at Theseus for as long as he could. He wasn't going into the dark alone, and that was greater than anything he had hoped for before.

The dark swept over him, and now he welcomed it.

***

The first thing that Percival became aware of was the sensation of magic sweeping over him - slowly, running across his limbs, finding every injury. Mapping out the wounds to start with, and then starting to knit broken bones and split arteries together. The magic danced across his body, and he could no longer fight it. He was just allowing it to happen. He wanted to fight. But the healing magic held him in place. He could smell potions now. He was being taken care of. He didn't know if this was a change for Grindelwald, but he couldn't understand why. The man would have been happy to let him die, if he had to. 

He slowly tried to open his eyes. The ceiling above him was white, lit by floating balls of light. He twisted his head, and found himself facing the same man he had seen in his prison.  
"Hello," Theseus greeted him. "You still look like shit, please don't faint on me again." Theseus's hand reached out and squeezed his own, and that touch felt the same as before. It was the feeling of Theseus's hand in his that made Percival realise it was actually him.  
"You with me now?"  
"I think so," Percival agreed. "What... why are you here?"  
"Newt called me."  
"Why was your brother here?" Percival frowned, trying to understand.

"Certainly nothing illegal," Theseus said with a smile, wrapping his arms around Percival, laying down beside him on the hospital bed. "You know Newt. Completely law abiding citizen. Never going to do anything he shouldn't."  
Percival managed a faint smile, nodding.  
"Alright. So Newt was here, completely law-abiding, and then what happened?"  
"He got sentenced to death by a man wearing your face, and he found a way to unmask that man. He called me before we even found that the wards to your house had been increased."  
"Increased?"  
"Apparently they still recognised me. So I was the only one who could go in and get you out," Theseus informed him. He leaned in and stroked Percival's hair. Part of him was ashamed by how much that gentle touch soothed him.

"I need to get back to work," Percival protested. But the warmth of Theseus's body was soothing, and for a few hours, he allowed himself to rest.

It turned out that was a mistake. That after that first night, Theseus thought he could coddle him. Resuming work had been a challenge, but one he had risen to, Seraphina smuggling him paperwork the first chance she got. Theseus had complained, but permitted it, and he had recovered. He'd got back into the office, back to his aurors, and began to fix everything that Grindelwald had done. But Theseus didn't head home.

Newt was working on something to do with his creatures in the city, and while Newt had chosen to stay here, Theseus also remained. Newt was staying with the Goldstein sisters, but Theseus crashed with Percival because the Goldstein house didn't accept men. It had been simple enough to accept his offer. It was a return to normality, for a man who had never been expected to be normal. He treasured it while it lasted, and knew that it had never been meant for him. Theseus could have found so many people he would have been happy with, but it seemed like for now at least, he would be willing to stay. Percival didn't want to argue, not any more. He felt like seeing Theseus was a second chance he didn't deserve, one that he wanted to make the most of.

Spring came, and Theseus still hadn't found a reason to leave. He was still there, keeping things untidy, and Percival found he liked having someone to walk to work with. Officially, he was liaising, leading the Grindelwald investigation, organising work between Europe and America, and all of those things. Unofficially, he was making the most of sharing an office with Percival, cluttering up the place. He wasn't quite as infuriating as his brother, as he didn't tend to release creatures very often. He did however, tend to create little ornaments when he was bored, and that happened a lot. More than once, Percival had found that the paperwork he wanted had been carefully folded into an origami creature, which was scuttling up the wall. Having to summon paperwork from the ceiling was a new thing, one he had never had to worry about before Theseus arrived. But it was a small price to pay.

Having Theseus to go home with him meant that he didn't get to worry about what had happened before. Not when Theseus was there to walk alongside him, to talk to him. When getting home meant discussions about food, spending time together. It was a better day. A better life than he had before. 

Theseus was overprotective, but Percival never let that bother him. Theseus was just Theseus, the same mother hen that he had been in the war. In a way, it was nice to wake up with someone beside him. It was easy to get used to it, to pretend everything was normal. That he was just another person, that Theseus was just another wizard, and that they could forget for a little while about the role they had to play. He didn't sleep easily - neither of them did. But both of them slept a little better with the other there.

Things were slowly getting back to normal when Percival woke one day feeling far too warm. It felt as though his skin was burning, itching running along his arms and legs. He thought back over the previous day's work - there was no obvious spell that had caused it, and no new cursed objects. He groaned a little, coughing as he tried to sit up.

Theseus woke at the noise, a gentle hand pressing against his forehead.  
"You've got a fever."  
"I'm fine," Percival muttered, moving to get up and trying to ignore how raspy his voice sounded in his ears. Theseus stuck his arm out stubbornly, using a wave of magic to push him back into place.  
"You aren't going anywhere."  
"This is ridiculous."

Theseus looked at him for a moment, before casting a spell. The magic wrapped around Percival's body like a rope, pinning him to the bed. He stared at Theseus in irritation.  
"This is beneath you."  
"It's a temporary solution," Theseus informed him. "Gives me time to tell Picquery you won't be at work today, make you some soup, and see if you have any awful books that I can read to you." With that, Theseus left him alone.

After so long as Grindelwald's prisoner, Percival would have assumed that finding himself imprisoned would have frightened him. Instead he found that his emotions could best be described as mildly irritated, as he cursed Theseus and his determination to help even when it wasn't needed. He focused on that mild irritation, and when Theseus returned he managed to send a half-hearted glare his way. Theseus was worryingly unconcerned about being glared at, choosing to wave in response.  
"Sorry about that. Just can't have you apparating into the office," he vanished the restraints, and handed over a bowl of warm soup. Percival glared, but ate it.

Theseus was actually a pretty good cook, which went some way towards compensating for Percival's current predicament. Not very far, but it was something.  
"I'm never talking to you again," he muttered, his voice coming out as a croak. "I'm a grown auror, I can manage my health."  
"Yeah," Theseus agreed calmly, a slight smile lingering on his lips. "You are a great auror, and an adult, and you don't need babysitting. But I want to make sure you are safe, and right now the easiest way for me to do this is to take care of you when you need it. So you aren't doing it for you. You're doing it for me."

 

Percival considered pointing out to Theseus how ridiculous he was being, that Percival was a skilled auror who didn't need babysitting, but that felt wrong. He understood. He knew what it was like to need someone nearby. So even if it was ridiculous, and Theseus was being far too overprotective, he didn't have the heart to say no and send him away. 

"Well, you best bring some paperwork or something," Percival croaked. "The conversation around here is awful, I'll need something to do."

Theseus smiled brightly, and went to get it. Despite feeling awful, Percival let Theseus sit him up in his bed, and the two of them worked together to fill in the forms.

Percival was a Graves, and being a Graves came with certain expectations about the life you would live and the choices that you would make. It set out a path of sacrifice from before your birth, until the end of your life. 

But Percival was beginning to realise that there was more to him than the family name, and perhaps being weak wasn't the shame he had always believed it was. In fact, around the right people, taking care of each other was the best thing they had and the only thing they could do. With that thought lingering in his mind, he allowed himself to sleep.


End file.
